


The First Night of the Rest of Our Lives

by Chibifukurou



Category: Newsflesh Trilogy - Mira Grant
Genre: F/M, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibifukurou/pseuds/Chibifukurou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this was what the rest of their lives were going to be like, she couldn't imagine anything better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Night of the Rest of Our Lives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amberswansong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberswansong/gifts).



> I know this probably wasn't quiet what you had in mind, but I don't write incest. So I did my best to stick to potraying Shaun and George's close relationship. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

George blinked back tears. The lenses made her eyes feel hot and itchy. That was the only reason she felt like crying. It wasn't like she cared if her parents insisted that she wore her contacts for photo shoots, even though they knew she hated them. She wasn't that weak.

She forced herself to look at the mirror and lifted her chin out and up until she was scowling.

As long as she kept her gaze fixed on her mouth and not her eyes, her face didn't look like a harmless little girl who didn't know how to shoot a gun and blow zombie brains out as well as any boy.

It wasn't like Mom and Dad were actually asking her to be harmless. They were the ones who'd taught her everything she knew about protecting herself. They just wanted a good photo. And then she could go back to doing things her own way -- once the cameras were gone and they went back to ignoring Shawn and her.

And if the glimpse of the flowery dress they'd picked out for her made her want to scream? At least that was better than wanting to cry.

*Bang* *Bang* "George. Come on I've got to take a shower too!"

"Just a minute, Shaun," she yelled back, trusting that he wouldn't notice the fact she sounded a little choked up over the hum of the industrial fans working to pump the smell of bleach and lemon scented disinfectant out of the house.

"George... What's going on?"

She really should have known better. "Nothing! I just have a migraine." There, that sounded normal enough.

"Open the door, George!"

"I have it blocked off with a towel. Besides, I'm busy."

She couldn't hear anything coming through the door for a few moments, then he was back. "I turned the light off now. So it shouldn't bother your head anymore."

"Just give me a minute, then you can get your shower. We don't want to be late."

"Like hell!"

"Shaun."

"Come on, George. Either let me in or I’m going to get in through your door."

Like she hadn't lock her bedroom door before she’d took a shower. Still, it made her chuckle and broke the tension.

"I'm fine, Shaun. I just don't feel like going out and dealing with all the flashbulbs going off in our faces while we try and act like the perfect little post-apocalyptic family."

There was a thud of Shaun's back hitting the door. "I know, but hey. At least this time we get something good out of it."

If her chuckle came out a little choked off and wet this time at least they were through pretending that everything was fine. It wasn't like hiding things from Shaun ever worked anyway. "Have you been going through Mom's file's again?"

"Maybe..."

"You are such a mess."

"Yeah. But you love me anyway."

And wasn't that just the truth.

"Look. I know it's going to be a bitch to let the Masons act like we're all so happy and shit, but I promise after this afternoon everything will be better. We'll finally be able to get away."

There was a stupid little voice in the back of her head that wanted to ask, 'Really?' She pushed it down, back where it belonged. She was the responsible sibling.

'I'll be done in a minute and then you can start getting ready." She started pulling on her dress, so that she could actually manage to get out in the next couple of minutes.

"Like I actually care that much. Comb through the hair and a fresh shirt and nobody is going to notice the difference."

"You're wearing a belt and your nice slacks," George countered.

"How is it that you're always the responsible one? Even when you have a migraine?"

"I can't take all the credit. You're irresponsible enough I don't have to try too hard."

He snorted loudly enough, that she could hear him through the door. "Well, don't hold back on my account."

"When do I ever?"

She yanked at the dress until it lay straight. The girl in the mirror didn't look at all like her. Even with her signature scowl. Her hair was two shades too light, since Mom had asked her to wait on dying it until after the photo shoot. And her dress had that tacky floral print that everybody was claiming was 'retro'. And her eyes were brown and normal looking with the contacts on. She wasn't going to fall apart, though. Not while Shaun was counting on her.

She ran her fingers through her hair one last time, until it was more or less straight, and then grabbed her wet towels and headed for the door, flicking off the black light bulbs as she went.

By the time she was back from dumping her towels in the hallway laundry chute, there was a golden glow emanating from the crack between the bathroom door and the carpet and she could hear Shaun's off-tempo singing over the sound of the water beating down.

It settled her nerves better than even their earlier talk had. As long as she didn't pay much attention to what she was wearing, she could act like this was any other day when they were getting ready to go out on a story.

Lying back on her bed, she closed her eyes and relaxed into the noise, humming along whenever Shaun started singing a song she recognized from the car trips when he actually managed to claim control of the radio.

She let herself lie there until she heard the snick of Shaun's bathroom door.

Once he was back in his room, she forced herself to get up and finish getting dressed. A pair of ballet flats rested by the bathroom door. They were black and shiny and completely useless for keeping her feet protected.

She knew they were what she was supposed to wear, but she was already wearing the dress and contacts. It's not like her feet were going to be in the picture anyway.

She and Shaun met in the hallway outside her door. He was wearing a nice shirt and his belt as promised. His hair was still sticking up where he wasn't careful enough while combing it, the collar of a t-shirt embossed with some sort of rude saying peeking out from under his button-down. But he was mostly presentable, and she was wearing her own little piece of rebellion, so she couldn't exactly talk.

He smirked at her obvious inspection. "So do I pass muster, Mom?"

"Well, it's not like you can do anything about it now. The press conference starts in five minutes." Dad would have something to say about the fact Shaun hadn't slicked his hair back, but he wouldn't have time to make more than a few snide remarks.

He grabbed her hand as they made their way down the stairs.

Mom was primping her hair in the hall mirror while Dad absently chewed on the end of his pipe, peeking around the edge of the front window's curtain. 'It looks like a good turnout. Will do wonders for our ratings.'

"That's wonderful, dear," Mom replied.

George almost screamed. Why did every family outing have to relate to ratings? It wasn't like she didn't want her own blog to get good ratings. She just thought that family should come first.

Shawn squeezed her hand a little tighter, and bumped their shoulders together in a practiced move that was just casual enough to pass for an accident.

He let go of her hand before Mom turned around and spotted them on the stairs. The back of their hands still brushed together, but that was easy enough to excuse as a side-effect of the way they were standing.

"Honestly, George. What happened to those perfectly lovely shoes I bought you? Those boots make your legs look like sticks. And Shaun Mason, what is wrong with your hair?"

"George took too long in the bathroom primping," Shaun replied.

George almost started laughing. She had no idea how Shaun managed to keep a straight face while saying that. She didn't 'primp'. Hell, when she didn't have to dress up, she was usually in and out of the bathroom in ten minutes.

Mom gave George's face a searching look. Her lips pursed, probably at the lack of makeup. "Honestly, it's like you aren't even trying to make a good impression."

"Let them be, dear. The photographers are starting to get antsy and we've only thirty seconds until the press conference is about to start.'

Mom's face stretched into a plastic smile as she turned and swept across the hallway to tuck her hand into the small of Dad's back. Dad's arm went around her shoulder. His dark green sweater vest complemented the light green of her dress.

The perfect blogging power couple. George and Shaun shared a look, before following them out the door and into a blinding storm of flash bulbs. Even with the contacts in, it felt like George was being blinded. She moved back behind Shaun and hunched into herself.

With her back to the door and Shaun taking attention off of her, she was able to let herself drift again, playing a game of figuring out which photographer went with which blog, instead of listening to Mom rambling about how proud they were of Shaun and George's blogging abilities. Like they had done more than give them half-hearted suggestions on how to make their blogs popular, before leaving them alone with their computers because they got distracted by the 'next big story'.

Shaun shuffled back to dig his elbows into her ribs, getting her to straighten up and move into position beside him before Mom and Dad could turn around. Not that it would have mattered, since Dad only glanced in their direction for a second, before following Mom over the garage.

The doors slowly rose, and this time George didn't need to be prompted into moving. Mom had been talking about getting them their own vehicle for a while. It had been part of the absent sort of mothering she gave them when she wasn't too distracted by her blog, so George hadn't paid much attention. If Shaun's smirk was anything to go by, she should have.

It certainly explained all the little hints Shaun had been dropping.

The lightbulbs started flashing again as soon as she was close enough to see what was waiting inside the garage. She barely flinched. All of her attention was on the van that was sitting in the space next to Mom's minivan.

'It's perfect," she whispered. It wasn't really - obviously second-hand with damage to the front grill where it had been used to hit something big and probably amplified, but in that moment it was like all of the Birthday and Christmas presents that Mom and Dad had forgotten to get her had come at once.

It was a place of their own. One where they could be Shaun and George, instead of the Masons' kids. Where nobody could tell them they were 'wrong' for loving each other so much.

"Are you getting emotional?" Shaun asked, bumping his shoulder against hers.

"No."

"Uh-huh." Shaun obviously didn't believe her, and for once she didn't care.

Almost as soon as the reporters left, Mom and Dad were in their office, on their computers. Their posts about the wonders helping their children carry on the family's blogging tradition would be up within two hours. And it would be at least three hours before they came out again.

Trusting that they wouldn't get caught, Shaun and George snuck out to the van. Shaun carried a bunch of pillows and blankets while George carried a two liter bottle of coke and a carafe of coffee, their computer bags slung over her shoulder. They pulled the back seats out of the van and left them in a pile by the garage wall.

In the now empty back of the van, they made a nest for themselves. Curling up together like they had, back before it got too awkward for both of them to fit in a twin bed.

It was the most relaxed George had felt in years, both of them typing on their computers and sniping at each other like they were kids again.

If this was what the rest of their lives were going to be like, she couldn't imagine anything better.


End file.
